


Intentions

by Pyrrhicy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bestiality, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Child Neglect, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, One-Sided Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Porn with Feelings, References to Knotting, Rimming, Werewolf Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrrhicy/pseuds/Pyrrhicy
Summary: They shouldn't be doing this.Stiles knows that it’s wrong - wrong on so many levels. That it’s depraved and filthy and actually fucking illegal on several accounts, and that when all is said and done, they really, really shouldn’t be doing any of it.But they do it anyway.Because sometimes, it’s hard to believe that something that feels so good can be wrong.





	Intentions

They shouldn't be doing this.

Stiles knows that it’s wrong - wrong on so many levels. That it’s depraved and filthy and actually fucking illegal on several accounts, and that when all is said and done, they really, really shouldn’t be doing any of it.

But they do it anyway.

Because sometimes, it’s hard to believe that something that feels so good can be wrong.

It started, more or less, ten years ago, when Stiles met Cora Hale in his first-grade class at Beacon Hills Elementary School, and they became best friends for life. It started picking up more speed four years ago, when Stiles was going through puberty and knew he was bisexual and suddenly realized that Derek Hale, his best friend’s older-by-four-years brother, was the hottest person he had ever laid eyes on. It really got going two years ago, when Scott, Stiles’ second best friend in the world, was bitten by a rogue werewolf and werewolves apparently existed and apparently the Hales were also werewolves and apparently Stiles had been part of their pack for a decade without knowing it, and Scott also became part of the pack, of which both Cora and Derek were obviously a part of as well, because apparently they were both werewolves.

That had certainly been an unexpected turn of events. But nevertheless, it had progressed the story.

It really started, in most qualifiable ways, the May following his sixteenth birthday, seven months prior.

It had been a normal day - he’d gone over to the Hale’s glorious mansion home in the preserve, been swarmed by little werewolf children, been dragged to the movies by his werewolf best friends, politely ignored when his second best friend made pathetic moony eyes at him, grumpily ignored when his first best friend roles her eyes pityingly at both of them, been dragged back to the Hale house by his werewolf best friends, and then sat down to eat a lovely dinner with almost twenty other people, only two of whom were not werewolves.

It was funny, really, how Stiles life had become the oddest mix of normal, everyday teen actions and angsts, and supernatural dramas and conspiracies.

Stiles sat next to Derek at all of those dinners, which he’d attended most days after the werewolf secret had been revealed and Talia had learned that because of his dad’s schedule, Stiles spent nine out of ten dinners eating alone on his couch. Strangely enough, despite Derek’s general surliness and his dislike or outright hatred of ninety-nine percent of the people or wolves outside of his family, very much including Scott, Stiles and Derek had developed the oddest friendship.

It was odd because Derek could have been a star quarterback if he wanted, might still one day become a model, and was the growliest, hottest guy ever to walk the Halls of Beacon Hills High, unanimously agreed on by all the male-attracted students in the school. And Stiles was… Stiles. He was weird, and a spazz, and had never gotten over the death of his mother, and was only attractive in the sense that he looked a little cute because he was pale and a geek but had decent bone structure. So Stiles was Stiles, and Derek was Derek, and they really shouldn’t have been friends.

But they were.

They had been friends since Stiles had attended Cora’s seventh birthday party, and Derek - who had been a much more grown up and sophisticated eleven-year-old - had made sure that Stiles got the best burger and Stiles in return had given him a very interesting looking rock he’d found in his backyard the next time he’d visited the Hales, and the next time Derek had given him a bird feather that became Stiles’ prized possession, so he’d given him a snail shell.

They’d exchanged little nicknacks from the forest for years - they still did. Cora had made fun of him for it, and Talia and Patrick had been completely bemused by it, and his father told Stiles to stop bringing dirty things into the house, but they did it anyway.

It was a weird friendship, but it had worked just fine despite what everyone else had to say about it. Derek made sure that Stiles always got the best burger at Hale gatherings and Stiles always baked Derek his favorite carrot cake on his birthday. Derek beat up the kids who thought they could bully Stiles when he started high school and Stiles had lied and said that it wasn’t Derek who did it. Derek taught Stiles how to drive and Stiles brushed Derek’s fur when he was in full shift.

And it was during a session of that last activity when it all really started.

He’d always loved the full shift wolves. Scott couldn't manage it, but both Cora and Derek were happy to help fulfill Stiles’ lifelong dream of having a dog. Funnily enough, both usually gloomy siblings were always bouncier, more childlike when they shifted. They were more than willing to run around with Stiles, pretend to wrestle with him, tramp through the forest like they really were just dogs and not actually people. 

But Cora always had so much energy as a wolf, so much so that at some point she’d have to leave the actual human behind in order to go run it off with a dozen or two laps around the preserve. Stiles always figured that it was how she managed to be so calm and put-together the rest of the time, by burning all of her energy off in wolf runs. Stiles had sometimes wished that he could manage the same, maybe somehow stem his forever overflowing thoughts - the ones that Adderall couldn't halt - if only he could do the same.

Derek was different as a wolf. He was more than happy to chase leaves or nip at Stiles’ heels, but he was also perfectly content to just lounge with him and take catnaps in warm sunshine or, as it came to be, lie still while Stiles lost himself in the methodical act of brushing down his whole coat.

It had been Talia, awfully enough, who’d first suggested it, when she’d come out of the house to see Derek and Stiles tanning on the back deck. She’d chuckled, more used to their odd friendship than she had been years before, and run inside to fetch a hairbrush.

“His coats looking a little mangy,” she’d said as she handed it to Stiles. “Must be all of that running around you lot do. Give him a good brushing down, Stiles, he’ll appreciate it later.”

Stiles had hesitantly done as he was told, and found himself in awe when only a minute in, Derek had been rumbling with the wolf equivalent of a purr. He’d almost stopped brushing out of surprise. Even more shocking was a few minutes later, when he’d found himself feeling like if he were capable, he’d be purring too. His ever racing thoughts had been quieted, focused on the task at hand, which was enough busywork to keep his hands busy and his thoughts unhurried.

Cora had cocked her head at them when she’d trotted back to the house, panting slightly, but she hadn’t said anything about it when she turned back.

It became another one of their odd rituals after that. Whenever Cora left to do her laps, or Derek and he was alone in each other's company for whatever reason, Stiles would pull out the brush.

It was so strangely rewarding to see Derek’s coat looking lively and well-kept; the thick black fur was smoother than it had ever been, and it served to calm the before rugged look of the creature into something more like dangerous elegance. It helped to calm his thoughts and it made Derek feel and look good. There was nothing wrong with it.

At least, there hadn’t used to be anything wrong with it, until one sticky-hot day in May, seven months earlier.

They - meaning Derek and Stiles - had been at Stiles’ house, recuperating from the heat by lounging in the chilly air-conditioned space of his bedroom while Cora somehow still managed to keep running. They’d all gone for a jog that morning as part of a collective effort to keep Stiles at least marginally more fit than he’d been for most of his life, and so he wasn’t wearing anything but basketball shorts and a t-shirt absolutely soaked through with sweat. He was more than a little gross, but so was Derek’s sticky fur, and so they trooped upstairs to get the hairbrush anyway.

Stiles, as per usual, had gotten lost in the repetitive calmness of the motions, and he hadn’t recognized Derek’s pants when they started picking speed, hadn’t really noticed the enormous wolf shifting and whimpering on his lap or the great tongue lolling out of his mouth in unusual pleasure.

Stiles had, however, noticed the large, dripping red organ poking out from between the wolf’s legs when he’d moved to brush the fur on his stomach. He’d stared into the wolf’s large, unblinking eyes as he experienced a very significant turning point.

He’s likely to never forget the clatter the brush had made when it had fallen to the floor and Stiles had reached for Derek’s cock for the first time.

And now they were here, seven months later, still in Stiles’ bedroom, and doing things that they really shouldn't have been doing.

Derek had shown up on his back porch, whimpering pitifully and soaked through with freezing December rain. Easy enough to explain - he’d gone for a run through the preserve, and gotten caught in the chill. It made sense that he’d detoured to Stiles’ house if it happened to be closer than the Hale mansion. If one of the Hales happened to stop by, then of course he was still in his wolf form, because he didn’t have a change of clothes stashed at the Stilinski house and of course he wouldn’t want to be naked around Stiles, he was just a kid after all, his sister’s age. 

And, of course, if the sheriff - unknowing of the truth of the eccentric Hales who lived on the preserve - ever did come home, and deigned to check in on his son, and found a wolf mounted on top of the sixteen-year-old, then there wouldn’t be anyone to arrest in a false show of parental concern, and the sheriff would never, ever mention it out of complete mortification.

And maybe that was all just conjecture, feigned to explain why exactly they only ever did this when Derek was shifted, but it’s what Stiles told himself when he was alone at night and there wasn’t any pleasure to distract him.

That, and the honest truth that it just felt so fucking good.

It’s cold outside but Derek is a fucking furnace at his back, his enormous wolf cock shoving into Stiles’ carefully prepared and lubed entrance with a focused ferocity, a controlled wildness. Stiles is completely naked, his nipples perked up in the chilly air, his less impressive cock red and swinging between his legs. He’s moaning loud enough that he could have been heard from anywhere in the house, but he can’t help that. The wolf’s cock is big enough that it doesn’t matter how he thrusts because its always brushing against Stiles’ prostate perfectly.

When Derek’s wolf fucks him, Stiles gets to let go. He no longer has to be the kid who never stopped feeling responsible for his mother’s death. He’s not the delinquent son of the absentee sheriff who the entire town looks at with pity because they all know that John Stilinski spends as much time away from home as possible. He’s not a tag-along Hale, or a geek only saved from school beatings because of his more impressive friends, or an asshole for ignoring Scott’s obvious feelings for him. He’s not a little kid, pathetically in love with his best friend’s older brother, with whom any relationship with would be illegal and perverted. He’s not in love with someone so far out of his league they may as well live on Tralfamadore.

He’s just Stiles, drowning in pleasure and fur, and if he’s more than a little fucked up then that’s okay because no one knows anyway.

And Derek isn’t his best friend’s older brother, with whom any relationship with would be illegal and perverted. He’s just a wolf, a big, fluffy monster who will fuck Stiles until he can’t speak and can barely breathe, and will then gently lick him clean and cuddle with him until he feels safe, and warm, and protected.

It’s good, what they have. It’s fucked up, but it’s good. Simple in a way that it really shouldn’t be.

It will be more simple in the future, Stiles knows, they’ve planned it all out in little dropped phrases, carefully worded hints that they’ve perfectly interpreted in translation until they might as well admit to having a fucking ten-year plan. It’s the way they’ve always been, Derek and Stiles; they don’t ever need to speak to be able to understand each other.

Derek designs websites for a company in New York; he’s friends with the head of the company, who happens to be a werewolf; he’s got good promotional opportunities, but he’ll have to move to the City if he wants to see them fulfilled; he’ll probably do that in a year or two’s time, probably in the spring of what will happen to be Stiles and Cora’s graduating year; he’ll rent an apartment there, probably close to a college campus because housing in those areas was relatively cheap. Stiles has always wanted to live in a city; he’s a smart student, and he’ll probably end up going to NYU or Columbia University if he really tries; he’ll apply for dorm housing, but only knowing one other person in the big city, he’ll probably also spend a lot of time at Derek’s apartment; they’ve been friends for years, but with absence of other friends, they’ll probably grow closer; their age gape will fade in significance once they’ve both reached adulthood; if they start a relationship, there won’t be anything strange about it, especially if they wait until after Stiles’ graduation to announce it; it will be good, and they will be happy, and that will be enough for their parents. It’ll be more than enough for them.

Stiles comes with a smile on his lip and a gasp on his breath, and Derek follows just after, because he’s always such a fucking gentleman and he always waits until Stiles comes, no matter how long he has to hold off. He doesn’t pop a knot - sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t, Stiles doesn’t pretend to know why, but he does expect for Derek to explain it to him one day - and immediately darts back in, his large snout nosing into Stiles’ crack as he buries his flexible tongue into his hole. He licks and licks until Stiles is almost in tears from over-sensitivity, but he’s clean, and no longer smells like salacious activities.

Then, more gently, he noses at Stiles’ side until he collapses onto his own bed, and then cuddles up to his side, warm fur blanketing him better than any covers could. Stiles hums, and blinks away more tears as he slowly twines his fingers through longer locks of black fur and rubs his nose against Derek’s neck. He’s beginning to drift into sleep, but it’s all right, because Derek will be his guard dog, keeping perfect vigilance over him.

And Stiles is just so damn happy.

Someday, he knows, when he doesn’t have to hide anymore or feel ashamed or dirty or persecuted - someday they’ll be even happier.

But for now, this is more than enough.


End file.
